It was so surreal, standing here before him like this. I never thought I’d be one to tangle myself in such an elaborate relationship, one with nothing but fear and anxiety at every turn, trust just barely hanging on in the balance of things; but then again, I never thought I’d meet someone like him. He was so charming in such a mysterious way. I suppose that’s what drew me in when it all began, those unreadable hazel eyes and inscrutable smiles, mesmerizing words with double meanings and elegant, tantalizing gestures.

The rumors had been going around for a while now, and I’d always ignored them, telling myself that no, he wouldn’t do that to me. He’d told me himself, he only wanted me, but as time wore on, I began to find that hard to believe. He was so perfect, so graceful, flawless, excelled at everything he tried to do. And I was just average, nothing more than another face in the crowd. Why would he want me when he could have so, so much better? It made no sense whatsoever, not in my mind.

And then the rumors got worse, all kinds of horrendous notions surfacing. He’d cheated on me. He was only going out with me because of a bet he’d made with his friends. He’d already found someone better and was going to dump me by the end of the week. I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed to know the truth.

I’d put it off for a day or two, trying to work up the courage to ask him, but the confrontation was inevitable. I knew, sooner or later I’d have to ask him; my own paranoia would get the better of me. And so, here we were, standing awkwardly just a foot or so away from each other, me, on the verge of tears, and him, trying to console me, but unable to hold me, for I kept shying away. I needed an answer. I needed to know.

I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, and I wiped irately at it. No, I would not be this weak. I would not be so fragile that I’d cry at the slightest of misfortunes. No, I had to be strong, or he’d think that he could walk all over me, use me as if I was nothing more than a toy.

He sighed softly and took a step closer to me, his eyes locked on mine, his hand reaching out to trace along my jaw line, and this time, I didn’t step away, didn’t protest. I let him. As much as I hated to admit it, a part of me craved his touch, yearned incessantly for his gentle, sweet fingers to ghost over my skin.

“I love you,” he offered up quietly, maintaining confident eye contact.

I narrowed my eyes at him. That’s all he had to say? That’s the best he could come up with? No. I wouldn’t fall for it. I jerked myself out of his reach again.

“No, you don’t,” I hissed, seeing straight through his lies. And the more I thought about it, the more absurd the notion seemed, and the angrier I got. My voice rose a notch in pitch and volume as I growled, “Take that back.”

He shook his head at me, his eyes never leaving mine. He stepped towards me again and this time took my hands in his, fingers running lovingly over my fragile skin.

“Yes, I do,” he persisted, almost seeming sincere in his manner of speech, “More than anything.”

Upon hearing this, my anger flared up, all of the emotions I’d kept bottled up within me bubbling up in one explosive outburst.

“No!” I shouted, yanking my hands away from his. I shot the harshest glare I could muster at him, “You’re a liar.”

He sighed again and murmured softly at me, my name slipping out easily between those pink lips. I gritted my teeth and let out another loud shout, words and insults and profanities tumbling out of my mouth, unstoppable. I cursed and screamed and said every worst thing to him, telling him I hated him, I never wanted to see him again. He was an idiot for believing I’d never decipher his true intentions, an even bigger one for even thinking that he’d be able to persuade me otherwise.

And he stood and listened, patiently as I relentlessly, mercilessly hurled insults his way. He didn’t flinch, not once, simply let me let out whatever I’d been holding back. I yelled, ranted on and on until my throat was hoarse and frustrated tears streamed down my cheeks. Sobs began shaking my chest, making it hard for me to speak without choking on my own words. And then all I could do was cry, shoulders shaking, body hunched, arms wrapped tightly around my own torso as if to hold it together as I fell apart.

And it was then that he finally reacted. He took me into my arms and held me tightly to his chest, whispering sweet nothings in my ear and rubbing my back soothingly. He held me with tender arms, nothing short of loving. And when I had calmed, he lifted my face up to his and, without a word, pressed his lips to mine, moving them with gentle pressure against mine. And despite myself, I found my arms raising to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to me as my body screamed for me to do.

Neither of us spoke nor made any move to break this moment, simply stood, together, as the rest of the world faded away. And, just like that, with sweet kisses and gentle hands, he wiped away all doubt that I’d held. I could feel it in this kiss, the passion, the devotion, the most intense, sincerest adoration he held for me; I could feel it all in the way his lips moved with mine.

He loved me. He really did. It was so surreal.

Just a little story I wrote a while back, completely fictional. Hope you like it :]

by isabellasunday